40

“I think you should do it,” Dr. Hieler said, dumping half a cup of coffee down the drain in the tiny office kitchen.

When I’d left the hospital, I’d walked straight to his office down the street, not sure where else to go, and totally sure that I needed to talk. He was in between clients, but had a few minutes while he prepared. I followed him around the office, watching him pick up leftover soda cans from old clients and stack paperwork together on his desk.

“Write something. Doesn’t have to be any sort of apology or anything. Just something that represents the class to you.”

“What, like a poem or something?”

“A poem’s a good idea. Just something.” He puttered back into his office and I followed on his heels.

“And just make the suggestion that I read this poem or whatever at the graduation ceremony?”

“Yep.” He used his hand to scoop a small pile of potato chips off his desk into the trash can below.

“Me.”

“You.”

“But aren’t you forgetting that I’m Sister Death, the Girl Who Hated Everyone? The one everyone loves to hate?”

He stopped and leaned forward on his desk. “That’s exactly the reason you should do it. You’re not that girl, Val. You never were.” He glanced at his watch. “I’ve got someone waiting…”

“Yeah, okay,” I said. “Thanks for the advice.”

“Not advice,” he said, heading out the door with me at his heels. “Homework.”